Distraction
by temari13
Summary: Bruce becomes a distraction to Selina and proves he is dangerous in the kitchen.


A dinner date at Selina's penthouse turns dangerous...

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman.

* * *

I glanced over at the clock in my bedroom and noted that it was 5:46. Bruce would be here in about fourteen minutes, and I still had to set the table and start dinner. I had finally convinced him to come to my penthouse for dinner, and maybe with some luck, I'd be able to convince him to stay the night, as well.

Yeah, good luck with that one, I told myself with a sigh. Bruce and I hadn't been able to see each other for a couple of weeks, due to his busy work schedule, both during the day and the night. I myself hadn't had much free time, either. More crooks in East End seemed to pop out of the woodwork every night, and it was all I could do to keep track of them all. Granted, patrolling East End wasn't as difficult as patrolling Gotham since it was smaller, but Bruce had Tim and Cassandra's help. I had no one. Luckily, the criminal activity in my part of town had seemed to diminish over the past two nights.

Casting one final look at myself in the mirror, I smiled. Although my attire was casual, I thought I still managed to look classy enough. I was wearing dark blue jeans and a light green button shirt.

After making my way into the kitchen, I pulled out the drawer that held my pots and pans, and selected a medium sized pan. Carrying it to the sink, I turned on the faucet and filled it halfway with water. After placing it on a back burner and turning the stove on so the water could boil, I proceeded to begin on the sauce. I mixed the ingredients together -vine-ripened cherry tomatoes, garlic, onions, olives and mushrooms- and set that pan on the stove, too. The next task was to set the table.

The doorbell rang just as I was putting the last place setting on the table. "Door's open!" I called out.

"You should keep your door locked, or someone can just walk in and steal you blind," Bruce muttered, closing the door behind him.

Chuckling, I said, "I doubt that. Not a thing in here worth stealing. Just throw your jacket on the couch, if you want." Glancing into the other room, I saw him loosen his tie and toss it and his black suit jacket on the couch. My eyes slowly scanned his form, taking in his black slacks and dark red shirt. Allowing a small smirk to cross my face, I shifted my focus back to the stove. Dinner first.

I checked the water for the spaghetti and found that it was now boiling. Opening a box of Ziti pasta noodles, I dumped the contents into the pot.

Bruce crossed over to me, and peered over my shoulder into the pot. "What are you making?"

"Spaghetti delle rocca ," I replied.

"Mm, smells good. But not as good as you smell." He gave my cheek a quick peck.

"Thanks, Bruce." I smiled.

"Anything you need help with?" He asked, rolling his cuffs up to his elbows.

"No, I've got it. Thanks, anyway." I grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the noodles so that they wouldn't stick together.

A chair scraped against the tiled floor as he pulled it away from the table, then sat down.

"How was work?"

He shrugged. "Same old, same old."

I felt his gaze on me, and for an unknown reason, felt uncomfortable. Why, I wasn't exactly sure. How many times had I pranced around him on the rooftops wearing that skin-tight catsuit? And yet here I was feeling uncomfortable while wearing jeans and a shirt?

Bruce got up from the chair, and I assumed that he was going to the bathroom. Until I realized that he was right behind me, pressing kisses to the back of my neck. I ignored him, taking the lid off of the sauce so I could stir that. I then took a loaf of French bread and began to cut it into slices. The whole time, he was still behind me. I endured it until his tongue flicked out, licking behind my ear, and I almost chopped my finger off.

"Bruce," I hissed.

"Yes, Selina?" He asked, his face still buried in my neck.

"I'm trying to cook here."

"I see that."

"So is there any particular reason as to why you are trying to distract me?"

"What do you mean 'trying'? It's not working?"

Shaking my head, I continued to cut the bread. "No, Bruce, it's not worki-" I stopped mid-sentence when he snaked his hand up my shirt, causing me to drop the knife. It clattered to the counter.

"Now is it working?"

Whirling around, I gave him my best glare. He, of course, was unaffected by it, and just stared down at me, that insufferable Bruce Wayne smirk on his face. "That does it. I have had enough of your antics, Bruce. Get. Out. Of. My. Kitchen." I punctuated each word with a poke to his chest.

Bruce sighed and stepped back, releasing me as he did so. His hand lingered on my side for a few more seconds. I waited until he was in the living room before I returned my attention back to the stove. The noodles were starting to clump together, and I cursed under my breath. Quickly stirring them, I then checked on the sauce, and was satisfied when I discovered that it wasn't burned. I retrieved a plate for the bread and arranged the slices on it, setting it aside to place on the table later.

No sooner had I done that than a pair of lips pressed to the back of my neck. "Bruce!" I yelled. "What part of 'get out of my kitchen' don't you understand?"

He didn't reply, only turned me around and kissed me. His right hand cupped my jaw, while his left splayed across my lower back, drawing me closer to him. I returned the action, until the soft bubbling of the spaghetti water caught my attention.

"Bruce, stop. The spaghetti will burn," I said, angling my head so I could talk without his lips on mine.

"Let it burn." He whispered before reaching around me and switching off the burners. He picked me up and I dug my nail into his neck.

"Don't even think about sitting me on the stove, Bruce. I don't feel like going to the emergency room for burns and having to explain how I got them."

Bruce stepped sideways and placed me on the counter a safe distance from the stove. "This better?"

"Yes, thank y-" When he slipped his tongue into my mouth, I gave up on talking. He wasn't in the mood to listen, anyway.

Not even taking the time to unbutton my shirt, Bruce ripped it off, causing some of the buttons to pop and roll away. I gave a slight growl. That had been one of my favorite shirts. My hands wandered down to his belt and loosened it enough to untuck his shirt, before wandering underneath his shirt, my fingernails lightly scraping his skin.

Bruce slowly tugged a bra strap off my shoulder, his lips trailing down my shoulder. While he was distracted with that, I pushed his pants down, grinning when he gave me an annoyed look. He unbuttoned his own shirt, and slipped out of it and his undershirt. My bra and his boxer briefs soon joined the pile of clothing on the floor. With some maneuvering and joint effort, we managed to get my pants and underwear off.

Bruce entered me suddenly, and I was caught off guard, having thought that there would be more foreplay. My head slammed back into the cabinet, and I let out a sharp cry. He immediately stopped, looking up at me. "Selina? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Bruce." I winced slightly as his hand gently touched the back of my head.

"You might want to ice that," he said, his brow creasing.

I stared at him. "Bruce, I am not going to ice my head right now. And," I wrapped my legs firmly around his waist, "if you even so much as make a move towards the freezer, I will throw you out of this penthouse, naked or not naked."

Bruce let out a sigh. "Selina, you just hit your head. I don't think-" This time, he was interrupted by me moving forward. He tensed.

"How long did it take for you to get me here, and now you want to stop because of a little bump on my head?" I whispered into his ear, my hands sliding over the rigid muscles in his back.

He merely grunted, but I knew that I had won this argument. I could tell from the way his body was quivering slightly that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. My lips found his, and he began to relax, responding to my kiss.

Finally, Bruce began to move inside of me, and I tangled my fingers in his hair. I leaned my head back, careful not to hit the cabinet this time, while his mouth explored my neck, then dipped lower. My breathing hitched when he fastened his lips onto my breast.

I noticed with my peripheral vision that his left hand, which had been braced on the counter, was sliding forward, closer to the wooden knife block. "Bruce, careful!"

My warning came too late, and the knives scattered all over. One came very close to hitting me. I let out the breath I had subconsciously been holding.

Bruce gave me a crooked grin. "Sorry." Instead of taking the time to collect all the knives together, he lifted me up. He walked backwards to the table, and turned around, setting me on the table.

My teeth found and tugged on his lower lip, while we settled back into our rhythm. His hands traveled over my body, as if unwilling to remain fixated on one place.

I impulsively wrapped my arms around his neck, lifting myself up from the table, and he, from the combined aspects of my weight and the surprise, stumbled backwards. He succeeded in catching his balance by placing a hand on the stove, but unfortunately, he hit the pan that held the spaghetti. The pan wobbled for a few seconds before tumbling to the floor, spilling its contents all over. Bruce stepped back to avoid the pan, but only ended up slipping on the water that now covered the area surrounding the stove. We crashed to the ground, with him on the bottom, taking the brunt of the fall.

That didn't deter us for long, and, after rolling over so he was on top, we continued with our lovemaking. I climaxed shortly after, gasping out his name, and he followed not long after me. We lay there, breathing heavily, allowing our heart rates to return to normal.

"You're dangerous," I grumbled.

"Which is exactly why I am not allowed in Alfred's kitchen." Bruce slowly sat up, offering a hand to help me sit up, as well.

"Exactly! Why do you think I chased you out earlier?" I exclaimed incredulously.

Bruce shrugged. "Because I was distracting you, I suppose."

"Exactly. And now look." I spread my arm out, indicating the floor. "The spaghetti is on on the floor now."

"At least it wasn't the sauce," he spoke seriously.

I grabbed some noodles and flung them at him. They landed on the top of his head. "Shut up. So what do you want to do about dinner since you spilled it all over the floor?" I asked, observing the mess.

"We could eat off the floor. It should still be edible, I think." He ran his hand through his hair, collecting the noodles, and then offered them to me.

"Three second rule, Bruce. It's been at least three minutes," I reminded him, wrinkling my nose. "You could take me out to eat."

"We could order take-out," he suggested.

"Or," I cut in, "you could take me out to eat."

He shot a quick look at the clock. "I'd love to, Selina, but it's already seven. I do have things to do tonight."

"Well, it's either Bruce takes Selina out, or Batman has to buy Catwoman a burger," I said after a slight pause. "I'm starving, and I'm pretty sure you are, too, considering how your stomach just growled at me. Did you eat lunch?"

Bruce shook his head. "I didn't have time. Lucius had some files he wanted me to look through, and that took up my lunch break and most of the afternoon. I haven't eaten since breakfast."

"Honestly, Bruce, you need to start eating more. Man cannot live on crime-fighting alone, you know," I joked.

He stared blankly at me for a couple of seconds before his mouth twitched into a smile. "You sounded like Alfred for a minute there."

Grinning, I replied, "Thank you. Alfred is a wonderful man. You need someone like him around to keep you in line." I scooted closer to him. "Now, about dinner...?"

"Go get dressed," he relented with a sigh.

I pressed a kiss to his lips before shooting to my feet and dashing into my bedroom. Once there, I opened my closet doors, tapping my chin. I had two options. I could either pick a dress I had for occasions such as this, or I could pick my catsuit that was folded up in a box.

Decisions, decisions...

When I emerged ten minutes later, I saw that Bruce was dressed as well, but his attire didn't match mine. "Hey, I think you might want to change, unless you want people to be wondering why Bruce Wayne is jumping on rooftops."

He looked over, his eyes narrowing upon seeing me in my catsuit. "I thought you wanted to go out to eat, Selina."

"I changed my mind. I think it would much more fun to see people's reactions to Batman buying a hamburger," I grinned. "So get changed." When Bruce didn't move, I crossed over to him and looped my whip around his neck. "Come on."

He reached for his briefcase, muttering a word that sounded very similar to 'whipped.'

"Yes, you are," I purred into his ear. "But I don't think you'd like it any other way."


End file.
